


It's a Bit Tricky, This One

by beautifullyheeled



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Experienced Sherlock, M/M, Virgin John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:58:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullyheeled/pseuds/beautifullyheeled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story was won during the AO3 fanfiction auction. MistressKikisShipHasSailed won me and gave me the push to write this prompt for her:</p>
<p>What if "Three Continents" Sherlock got a hold of sweet Virgin John?</p>
<p>Oh, my dear friend, our poor John isn't going to know what hit him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sex Drive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistressKiki](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=MistressKiki).



It started with the little things.

****

_It always starts that way doesn’t it?_

****

A laugh that is shared through a secret.

****

A touch that is just a tad too long.

****

A look that is indefinable and curious, but makes you welcome it.

****

_Oh, he should have known. Even then._

****  
~~~~~** **

****

It had all started with that night at Angelo’s, if it had to be pinpointed. John, being curious, had asked if Sherlock had any romantic attachments. He, himself, had none, and it was almost reassuring when his new-at-the-time flatmate had admitted to not having an ongoing relationship as well. Normalizing, in a way, he supposed.

****

It was not unheard of for particular castes of social groups that fell into three he thought:

not-having-the-time-for-romantic-entanglements

just-plain-oblivious-to-the-whole-thing

too-busy-caring-for-others

****

John firmly was in the first and third column. He knew it, was fine with it, and knew (without a shadow of a doubt) that one day he would be married-with-children, his own small private practice, and be living somewhere quiet in the countryside. But for now, a flatshare in London was all well and good indeed. Two bachelors, no attachments, quite often a bit of danger; but John found the arrangement just fine. Coming home, he trudged up the stairs with the shopping, leaving two bags at Mrs. Hudson’s door, one bag at the stairwell leading to his rooms, and the other five entered their living space via the parlor door placed immediately down for him to hang his coat before turning (with picked up bags) to the shared kitchen.

****

“Sherlock! You here?” He called down the short hallway towards his friends bedroom door. “I have the milk,” He paused...no answer.  “And your chocolate digestives, alon-”

****

“Thank you John.” Came the baritone from right behind his left ear as his only warning. Sherlock stretched to reach around John for the milk that had just been put away, pressing up against him just slightly to get that extra bit to grab it. “How thoughtful of you.”

****

“Hey, personal space Sherlock! You’re not a cat! You can’t just wind your way around my body and get whatever you want!”

****

“Your body, although aesthetically pleasing, can not get me ‘whatever I want’ because at the moment I am in ‘want’ of a diversion and have none.”

****

“Jesus Sherlock, your mouth should come with a warning label. Go use that line, just a bit different, and I’m sure you could have a very sweet diversion, for at least tonight.”

****

“Not going tonight. You, Greg, and Molly will do just fine without me I’m sure...”

****

“Fine, I’ll call Mike and have him fourth. I’m off to shower. Start the kettle would you?”

****

“Yes, please do wash off that disinfectant smell. I wouldn’t want to snog you either!”

****

“SHUT IT TOSSER!”

****

John was determined to talk to that pretty blonde tonight. She worked as a nurse, he knew that much. It really wouldn’t do for him to remind her of work, smelling of antiseptics and sanitizers; he’d wear the expensive cologne tonight, just to make sure. It wasn’t that John was positive that he’d make a lasting impression, but it would be nice to not have a date fail.

****

‘Well, not really fail,’ he thought as he doused himself under the small torrent of water. ‘More like go anywhere.’

****

John had, in his Uni days, been quite the commodity. Compact, but muscular, rugby player going towards a medical degree. Oh, the ladies loved to look and chat, but he was just blowing off steam before getting back to his studies. There would always be time later, John promised himself. Then, there was his time serving his country. He was very proud of it, the lives patched or saved. If it left him a bit shy about taking his shirt off, a bit resistant to full nudity, that was his choice.

****

Now, he was home. In the heart of London, and yet, no closer to finding someone even though he sort-of had the time.  Sort-of between the work at the hospital and the work at home. Running around London madcap with your flatmate at a moments notice was not very conducive to long-term. So he had finally settled on finding someone for the short of it all. Maybe. Someone he could trust to understand his situation.

****

“Bloody hell John, you’ll be thirty-six shortly. Still a virgin...who’d have thought.” John stated to himself introspectively. “And now, add body conscious...never going to happen...”

****

Finished washing up, he turned off the taps grabbing for his towel drying off vigorously before reaching for his bathrobe. Finding it missing, he left his bathroom to find it lying on the chair.

****

“Hmm...”

****

Sliding into the deep terry-cloth material, John tied it tight before heading back downstairs for a cuppa while letting the steam evacuate his rooms. Descending the seventeen treads toward their shared parlor he noticed Sherlock holding his RAMC mug with a ghost of a smile on his face as he studied the fading vessel in his hand. He must have heard John’s approach, as a moment later, Sherlock turned around with a schooled expression and outstretched offering.

****

“Ah, thank you Sherlock.” John proffered when handed his mug, tea already made just the way he liked it. “What did you do now?”

****

“Can’t a friend make you tea?”

****

“Not when said friend practically feels you up to get to the milk without an apology.”

****

“Then consider this what was lacking.”

****

“Well, I suppose, thank you.” John half-smiled cheekily.

****

“John, must you go out tonight? We could order in and watch one of those ridiculous Bond movies you seem to love. Those places do nothing better then cause cirrhosis and addle your brain with nonsensical trivia.”

****

“Sure you don’t want to go and make fun then? Mol and Greg will ever so miss you and your lovely presence...”

****

“Not tonight. Really.” Sherlock pulled a face of discontent.

****

“Well, okay then.” Standing, he placed his empty mug into the rack after expediently washing it to cover his mild disappointment. “Alright, going up to get ready. See you later tonight. Ta!”

****

“I’m telling you that man is a menace,” John confided to Greg while Mols and Mike were grabbing the next round. “He pressed up to me like a leech just to reach ‘round for the milk!”

****

“Well this is Sherlock, mate. You sure he’s not the least bit interested? I think you two have been dancing around one another since you met...”

****

“So do I Greg, but what can I do about it? You know as well as I that I can’t make Himself do anything.”

****

“Well, the offer still stands John.” Greg’s hand fell lightly on his. “You’d be a damn fine catch for anyone.”

****

“Thanks, Greg, really. Just we...it’s professional. I need someone I’m barely attached to...”

****

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Only very few will ever understand the particular siren’s call that’s got you. What about Molly? She’s a sweet little bird, smart as the devil himself...”

****

“Nah, besides, I think you might be better suited. I’ve noticed, bet she has too...speaking of when’s it all final again?”

****

“Two weeks. Free agent. Kids as often as I can get them, wife off and happier than I’ve seen in awhile. At least it was amicable between us. Leaves me a bit lonely, but who’d put up with this life, yea?”

****

“Molly would...”

****

“Molly would what?” The long haired pathologist asked as she got back to their table.

****

“Would be ever so grateful for a light footed gent to take her to the floor,” Geg supplied. “What say you, Mols? Fancy a dance?”

****

Mike showed up a moment later. “Well there goes the other half of our team. They do look good together, don’t they. Greg have you to thank?”

****

“Well, just a nudge...just like a certain instructor I know...how’s it going? What’s it been, seven months with Mary?”

****

“Yes! Speaking of, thinking of going and making it official. Help me pick a ring? You work with her, ask Sarah maybe?”

****

“I’d be happy to! Congratulations Mike, really!”

 

John hopped up and ordered shots for their table. They drank two right away in celebration, then ordered another round again with Greg and Mols. Tonight was a good night indeed. Everyone happy around him, not a care in the world.  He knew one day he’d share their particular brand of joy. For now though, this was enough. He didn’t want to complicate things with Sherlock, that was really the crux of it all. The man was walking sex. Brilliant beyond belief, all long limbs and ethereal beauty, but his core was stronger than anything John had ever seen outside of a warzone.

****

It was true, knowing Sherlock, choosing him, it was walking straight into a battlefield. Mycroft was accurate on all accounts. Of course he would be, he was just as astute at minutia as his younger brother. Always at least fifteen moves ahead at times. Maybe there had been, unknown to John, hidden weight in the quip  about the expectation of a ‘Happy Announcement’ from the two of them. Fuck all, if it were, Mycroft took the cake. Hell, he’d send Mycroft a cake with ‘Mind your own business’ on it the next time he was at the bakery. Just to take the piss...it’d be grand.

**  
**“Alright, last pint, then I’m off for home lovebirds!” John jovially teased their three friends. “But first to see about that blonde...”


	2. Analyze Me

With John finally gone, Sherlock could finally relax. He hadn’t wanted to upset John before he left to go to the pub because then he knew he would be partially blamed later when John finally made it home with no number from the blonde he would chat-up in a few hours. No, he couldn't have gone tonight, couldn’t watch him do it. John deserved so much better. If he had to admit it, it was hard on him too.

****

Sherlock had realized that he had begun caring that night they caught the cabbie. Edit, the night John killed the cabbie to save Sherlock. Accurate. Accuracy mattered where John was concerned. The only reason (well only other  reason) he hadn’t deleted that entire night was because of the thrill of it all. He was able to trace the initial spark to the laughter in the hallway at Baker, before the knock and Mrs. Hudson’s announcement about the flat being trounced. There. That moment. Freeze framed and permanently encoded. John’s laughter.

****

He had never heard anything like it. Sherlock knew this man had been hurting psychologically, terribly so to the point of physical manifestations, and yet still he laughed. He had given a gift and received one all at once. Sherlock craved hearing John’s mirth over his stroppy grousing, but even that was wonderful. It meant John was firmly ensconced in life, his life. So, for as kid-gloved as Sherlock would have to be, he would do so to find a way to keep John permanently in his life.  

****

So the next logical step was decided. Sherlock, a  few weeks ago,  began pushing boundaries. Getting closer than was strictly necessary, like today, placing socks in wrong bureaus to have to go upstairs to reclaim/give back said small personal items to get John used to him in his ‘private’ space. Joining John occasionally for lunch at Bart’s when they ‘happened’ to both be there during one of  John’s shifts. Anything he could think of that could give him the vital information that he needed to begin wooing a fascinating person such as John Hamish Watson.

****

Oh, it could never be ordinary. Not for John, no, he needed interesting. Curious.

****

Going upstairs, Sherlock walked quietly into the rooms.  He moved straight past the small sitting area that housed John’s desk, wingback chair, and bookcases filled with an enumeration of books in several different genres (even though he tended toward fantasy), straight through the large curtained arch in the wall into John’s sleeping quarters. His bed was utilitarian in fabrics and use, which made Sherlock frown slightly. Since John had enjoyed the cologne so much (gift given in recompense for ‘accidentally broken’ bottle of inferior scent) possibly he could convince Mrs. Hudson to ‘give’ John a handsome sapphire blue duvet, which he himself  would pick and give to her naturally. It would set John’s eyes of marvelously as Sherlock took him-

****

Full stop. Archive for later use.

****

It would be good for John to have a few ‘nice’ ‘luxury’ items. The man worked so very hard and still only had 250 thread count sheets on his bed. It was madness. Standing beside the bed was not the wisest choice obviously, nor was it why he came into the room, the standing part. Sherlock couldn’t very well replace John’s pillow case with one of his own, so he thought he would do the very next best thing. He had to flood the room slowly with the scents he normally wore. Seemed a sound enough experiment at any rate. So, stripping, leaving his clothes on John’s pillow, Sherlock walked straight into John’s shower with a small caddy full of his personal items.

****

“Hmm...” Sherlock made the non-committal noise as he figured out what of his to use. “Shampoo.“

****

Most innocuous. Bergamot with almost anise undertones, John liked it (he thought). The scent would be only barely there in the shower when he turns it on in the morning. John most certainly would be impaired to some degree so the possibility of him recognizing it will be low for tonight. This was acceptable. If Sherlock let some of the soap dry on the tiling in hopes it might refresh the smell in the morning, so be it. The issue though, at least at this very moment was that the shower smelled decidedly like John. He had even used the cologne that Sherlock had gifted him (which made Sherlock both puffily happy and maddeningly jealous all at once) for tonights pub outing. Inhaling deeply  Sherlock steeled himself, stepped into the shower, and turned the water on full hot.

****

He had grabbed the flannel that John had just hung to dry, re-lathering it using John’s wash. This made the most sense to Sherlock. Kept the cloth smelling of John until he bins it into the laundry after his morning shower; also allows Sherlock to mix their scents in the shower to see if it will appeal to John.  All sudsed-up, he went for his shampoo, and lathered his hair as well. Mildly amused, he realized his thoughts had run their course bringing him half-erect. There was little to do for it. It seemed the more he thought about John inhabiting the same space, quite possibly with the same thoughts, the obvious response took place.

****

Sherlock leaned against the shower tiles smiling wickedly, taking his cock to task while thinking of John’s beautiful (of course, it had to be) body. John kneeling in front of him, in this very shower, slowly sucking him off. His (smaller) strong dexterous hands cupping Sherlock’s testicles, running his thumb over the sensitive organs, placing two shower slicked fingers into Sherlock. John’s mouth begging him to cum without words, just muffled hums and sighs. Sweet, but guiding, just like John. As Sherlock came, he left little thought to the added tannic notes that his ejaculation added. John did need to get used to that too he supposed.

  


Taking a deep breath once again, testing the steamy air, he decided it was all fine together and rinsed.  

****

Twenty minutes later found Sherlock in his chair beside a small fire. He was halfway content reading a journal making notes on the different Quantum theories. This one in particular, that bee’s have been noted to perhaps possess an aptitude toward naturally using, was quite fascinating. Enough to keep his mind slightly occupied while waiting for the main door to open, but not so engrossing that Sherlock would miss when John came home. He had already set the kettle to boil two point eight minutes ago, knowing that John should come home just after it boils and Sherlock had set-up their nightly tea for a change.

****

Small steps to wooing your Watson:

No pinning him to walls.

No stripping him bare to get the pub off of him.

No kissing him senseless just because the blonde tried and failed miserably.

****

Send the blonde a thank-you bouquet in nine days for being so inept.

****

Keys. Barely unsure in the lock. Five pints then. Good. Enough to be comfortable and only slightly suggestible, but not knackered. Perfect. Sherlock stood, going to the kitchen to retrieve their mugs also plating a slice of the Almond cake that Mrs. Hudson had left while John had been out. Just as John opened their door, Sherlock was once again heading back to the parlor with their respective nightly indulgence.

****

“Sherlock?”

****

“Tea’s ready,” He replied over his shoulder, sitting John’s things down on his side table. “Got you a slice of cake as well.”

****

“Alright then. So, anything on?”

****

“Not so much. How did you do this evening?”

****

“Well, Mr.I-can-see-everything?” John replied  a little petulant, but propped up by the tea and cake. “You tell me.”

****

“Horrible kisser, was she? And horrid sense of cosmetics...must be cheap. Stained your lips a bit.”

****

“Damn you Sherlock...sometimes...can’t you congratulate us on winning? Or mention Mike’s seriousness about the girl he’s seeing? No. It has to be me. My failures.”

****

“John, don’t get up. It is no failure on your part. She was a drinker and you didn’t realize. Nothing for it.”

****

“And I was in such a good mood tonight...” A look crossed John’s face that Sherlock could not readily decipher. One he had yet to see, catalog. “What about you?”

****

“About me?” Sherlock was intrigued by the instantaneous re-direct as well as the directness. “Kissing?”

****

“I mean why never, I mean...we had that one conversation ages ago...but well...ooh this is ridiculous!”

****

John was most assuredly in a stroppy mood, this would not do. Delete the blonde’s bouquet, she was worse than previously suspected. Must redirect to appease John. Better his mood.

****

“Pursuit of knowledge is never ridiculous, John. Please put your question into words if you wish to ask.”

****

“Fine, this is so Secondary...um, well have you...I mean ever, with someone?” John was thoroughly embarrassed.

****

“Kiss? Most assuredly,” Sherlock was full of mirth and calculations as to which permutation this discussion might dissolve into. “I’ve been told I’m quite good.”

****

“Dammit, Sherlock, you know that is not what I meant.”

****

“Well I have no idea what you meant as you are currently inarticulate due to inebriation, I can only speculate...”

****

“Please...speculate....”

****

“Sex?” Sherlock raised his eyebrow. “Am I a virgin as Mycroft loves to believe?”

****

“Well I suppose it is a bit...alright, fine. Are you?”

****

“Is this because you feel inadequate because you are?”

****

“Still not answering Sherlock...and how-”

****

“Come here John.”

****

“Ah, Sherlock...I didn’t mean...”

****

“Boring. Very well,” Sherlock took the small space between them in one stride inserting himself between John’s legs before kneeling to level their height out a little. Taking the mug from John’s hands, Sherlock set it aside smirking mischievously. “Come on John...slight sense of danger? Might be interesting?”

****

“Are you challenging me?”

****

“Quite possibly.” Sherlock tilted and shook his head, squinting his eyes in false reproach. “Maybe.”

****

“Maybe not?” John quips back at lightning speed.

****

“Maybe I  just want to catalogue the way you taste,” All levity leaving the room Sherlock leans forward, capturing John’s mouth in a light, warm kiss. “Feel, breathe...”

 


	3. Hollow

Sherlock could see John’s ire slowly rise just enough to take on the challenge. Marvelous. Pressing inward, their chests barely glanced off of one another as Sherlock grazed his lips over John’s before biting in a small firm possessive manner recapturing them. He moved in, snugging their torsos together, wrapping his long arms around John, pulling the shorter man to the edge of the seat.

****

Happy to feel John’s reciprocation, Sherlock brushed his body against the trouser material. The small moan the grind elicited, a very warmly received gift indeed. He was only able to keep himself slightly composed, allowing himself to get mostly lost in the kiss and the sensations of their bodies against one another. The clothing only adding a layer of stimulation as hands roamed, clutching, caught up in the sweetness of the moment. The newness of the mutual exploration.

****

“Sh-Sherlock,” John swallowed, trying to quiet his panting while Sherlock was nuzzling into his neck. He could feel Sherlock’s cooler brow on his flushed neck as he caught his breath. John’s mind was racing to keep up with where his body was already miles ahead into the uncharted territory. Instinct really was a marvelous thing. How it could shut off anything and everything once a person you held affection for was involved. “Sherlock? Shouldn’t we talk about this?”

****

“Mmmm, yes I do think I like this angle as well, but I too think I would prefer a more horizontal location? Now, will it be the sofa? Or shall we be very daring and go straight to bed?”

****

“To bed?!? We’re...snogging...” John quipped hastily. “You can’t be serious?”

****

“Yes, at this very moment, very much so John,” Sherlock brushed his hand along the outside of John’s thigh, whispering his lips barely grazing the shell of John’s ear. “I had hoped we might add other activities.”

****

“Other?! Damn it, Sherlock,” John chided throatily. “This could be terrible...”

****

“It could also be mutually beneficial, could it not?”

****

“Beneficial? As in beneficial to you correct?”

****

Oh, here was the pique again; John most certainly was in a right mood. Sherlock tried to quickly change tactics to soothe the quicksilver disposition ruefully thinking this must be what it was like on day his own boredom reached a critical state. Handling John when agitated was like pacifying a porcupine on it’s worst day; all quills and barbs.

****

“Us, John, to us,” Sherlock quieted his voice to a calm whisper,leaned back, and cupped John’s face. “But it will always be your decision.”

****

“Sherlock, I just don’t know.” John’s voice was steady, but matched the hushed tones that Sherlock had adopted. “This worries me... it’s all confusing.”

****

“Then we will simply have to experiment, which is exactly what we are doing at this very moment.”

****

“No, this is exploring madness is what this is.”

****

“Is it so horrible?” Sherlock asked, losing some of his assuredness. “Was I wrong?”

****

“No, not wrong. Not horrible.” John gradually broke into a soft smile. “Just new. Let’s go to bed.”

****

“Yours or mine?”

****

“Mine...to sleep. Come on you lanky git, that’s got to be killing your knees.”

****

“Alright John, let’s go to bed. Though my thread count is decidedly higher...”

****

“Sherlock...”

****

“Just let me get my pajamas...”

****

“See you upstairs.”

****

As John stood and stretched, he came to himself, suddenly nervous.

****

Sherlock.

****

In his bed.

****

His.

****

“Oh Christ!” He quietly expelled as he took the stairs to his rooms.

****

John hurriedly entered, went immediately to his wardrobe and pulled out some sleepwear and clean pants before rushing into his ensuite. He called to Sherlock that he’d be right out as he shut the door behind himself.

****

Oh, blessed mother, what had he gotten himself into.

****

Nothing for it now.

****

When John started the shower, he noticed the strange bottle in the tiny space. Sherlock’s shampoo. John knew the man hardly ever did anything accidentally, so he mentally filed it away to ask about later. The rush of the hot water soothed his nerves and his temper. It felt nice to get the pub off his body. As a joke, he grabbed the shampoo and used it to wash his own hair, just to see if Sherlock would mention it or decidedly ignore it. John laughed at the thought of actually teasing Sherlock in a non-verbal intimate fashion.

****

He found it did not phase him as much as he thought it would.

****

As he scoured his body free of the smokiness and tinge of yeast, he began humming. Everything felt right in this moment, and it felt so very fine. John finished his nightly routine, then headed out the steamy ensuite bolting for his bed. It had begun to rain, so the temperature had started to plummet in his room. He never complained of it but tonight was especially cold to begin with.

****

There, in his bed, was a Sherlock.

****

“Warming my bedding for me?” John laughed. “I should thank you.”

****

“Well then, do so at your leisure.”

****

John kissed him full on the mouth, unafraid. John found himself quite alright with that fact that he was about to spend his first night in bed with his closest friend. He knew it would only be a matter of time until it escalated; he just hoped he would be as cock-sure as he was right now.

****

“I want to warn you, my night terrors are better but-”

****

“John, I know. It’s fine.”

****

“Fair warning is all, don’t want you hurt or-”

****

“John!” Sherlock sighed exasperatedly before wrapping his arms around John as he settled into his chest. “You remind me of marmalade.”

****

“Your shampoo...”

****

“Yes. My shampoo.”

****

“Up here without my permission again...”

****

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

****

The two spent the better part of that night wrapped in discussion and each other.

****

Morning found them in close to the same position as they had fallen asleep in. Sherlock, for once, slept some of the night, finally drifting off to a deep sleep after watching John until the weak grey pre-dawn touched the sky. Awake before John, he decided mischief was in order. Sherlock began lightly drawing words onto the cloth covered back that was presented to him.

****

G-o-o-d-M-o-r-n-i-n-g

****

J-o-h-n-i-n-e-e-d-t-e-a

****

W-a-k-e-u-p-o-r-i-w-i-l-l-m-o-l-e-s-t-y-o-u-i-n-y-o-u-r-s-l-e-e-p

****

“If you do, you’d best be prepared for a fight.” The voice groused.

****

“Ah, good morning John.” Sherlock kissed the top of John’s head. “Comfortable?”

****

“Morning to you too, bed hog,” John added imperiously; hidden mostly under the covers.“And, yes I am.”

****

“Tea?” Sherlock queried his still-drowsy bed fellow. “Or shall we stay here awhile?”

****

“Have a proper lie-in?” John stretched, finally peeking his head fully out of the covers. “Fine with me. Just give me a mo’ alright?”

****

With that, John reluctantly left the warmth of the bed, hurried to the ensuite through the chilled room, and closed the door. Once in he quickly ran through his morning routine before trotting back to the warmth of the covers and the body waiting for him there.

****

“Miss me?”

****

“Hardly, you were only gone for under 8 minutes,” Sherlock teased. “But I am very content to have you back even if you are freezing.”

****

“Well, then, Mr.Bandy-git, warm me back up to your comfort level.”

****

“I could do that.” Leaning down, Sherlock took John’s mouth into a soft kiss. “If you’d like.”

****

Still slightly sleep riddled, Sherlock followed his instincts, changing the angle just enough to tease with the tip of his tongue before lazily biting John’s lower lip. The breathy hitched sigh he heard in response only further emboldened Sherlock as he shifted John to lie on top of him. Moving his hands along John’s compact body, Sherlock gave little thought as his fingers skimmed beneath the age worn shirt that John had worn to sleep.

****

His skin felt cool still, but Sherlock knew this man was his own miniature sun when he slept. He wondered what it would take to see it flushed by his touch. One day, preferably soon, he would be able to know. Sherlock settled John as he pulled him closer, wiggling his knees until John spread his own with slight reluctance.

****

“Only what you want John...” He reassured as he worked along John’s waist, his hands stilling mid-back under the thinning piece of cloth. Sherlock decided to lightly rake his short nails down the flesh while gently rolling his hips. Not enough to gain friction, but enough to make his arousal blatantly known. The gasp was endearing, as was the surprising counter pressure John gave. It seemed John was in an exploratory mood as well.

****

“You feel amazing,” John admitted. “Warm, hard... it’s all very new.”

****

Sherlock’s mouth parted as his torso arched into John’s curious touch. Not wanting to stop his exploration, Sherlock breathed deeply, enjoying the sensation as John found the smattering of hair on his chest before finally caressing the skin beneath, Sherlock’s nipple brought taut with the coolness of John’s hand. He became the picture of concentration as John rolled the nub firmly beneath his callused thumb, emboldened by the response.

****

“Madness.” John absently remarked in hushed reverence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will be much more, sorry for cliffie!
> 
> (Ok, maybe only sort of...)


	4. Parenthesis

John came back to himself, lifted his eyes to meet Sherlock’s softened gaze before trepidation could still the forward momentum. He pushed himself upward to claim another kiss, his lips ghosting along Sherlock’s throat before diverting to the feel of the pulse beneath them.

****** **

“John.”

****** **

“Not yet...” John murmured against the thrum of pulse he was getting acquainted with. Surreal softness met his lips as he brushed gently against the sweet uptick that would be visible had John moved to take in the wondrous sight. Sherlock’s neck lazily extended in welcome for his perusal. Inhaling the clean sleep scent, even having it cling to John’s lips where he could just begin to taste was not enough. The soft flat of his tongue peeked out, nervous energy goading, to lave a small swatch with trepidation.

****** **

The long fingers entwined themselves in John’s now-longer-than-regulation hair pressing his mouth closer; opening it further until his teeth grazed the taught sternocleidomastoid and softer tissues below the thrumming pinned beneath the blessed sensory organ giving John the taste and heat of the man below him.

****** **

And, oh God, John was allowing it.

Allowing Sherlock to guide him.

 _JesusMaryandJoseph_...

****** **

As John breathed in he could smell the pheromones, he would swear it on his life.

****** **

“God, Sherlock...” Not understanding what he himself was even asking, stating, begging. “I need to, I’m sorry...I don’t...” Sherlock hummed quietly below him, the vibrations carried through them both. John stayed held settling on top of his almost lover buzzing and oddly content. His cock twitching in agitation against Sherlock’s belly would just not do though, he just was not ready, even if he was damp and physically wanting. It felt like too much.

****** **

“It’s alright you know,” Sherlock continued in the quiet morning air. “Overwhelming is good, trepidation understandable. In this case, caution is completely normal.”

****** **

“Than- Wait. In this case... _Sherlock_! How-”

****** **

“How many have I despoilt? John, I do not know if you really want that answer.” Sherlock was kissing his brow holding him lightly. “It might not be best to discuss when I have you, warm and hard, against my stomach.”

****** **

John blushed, the heat spreading viciously. It was true, and to make matters even more flummoxing, he’d begun to weep through the material of his pajamas. John decided on moving his hand between them as a barrier possibly, but Sherlock would have none of it clasping his hand instead.

****** **

“It’s all fine, as you put it before.” Sherlock chuckled once it was felt.

****** **

“No, it is, fine that is. I just want to know-”

****** **

“Oh I’ll be so gentle with you John,” Sherlock crooned as he changed tactics to end the discussion. “Caress you any way you wish, until you are wracked with sobbing prayers, my name only on your lips.”

****** **

“Christ!”

****** **

Oh that man’s voice should be illegal. It was a weapon of mass destruction, his words the most exquisite tactical deductions fuel for the fire Sherlock was about to rase John with.

****** **

_Leaving him ashen._

****** **

_And the bastard knew it._

****** **

But John had to know. It had to mean something, didn’t it?

****** **

“How many?”

****** **

“They all pale in comparison, you know.” Sherlock resigned, smoothed his hand over John from shoulder to hip and back again. “Deleted for the most part. That was for science, this, between us, is just that,” Sherlock pressed up against John’s cock with his taut abdomen, then rolled the muscles luxuriously. “Between us.”

****** **

“You’re going to be the death of me!” John’s breath caught stopping him from further comment.

****** **

Sherlock smiled, softening his features, took John’s hair once again with one of his dexterous hands brought his mouth to John’s ear whispering sumptuously. “Seulement la petite mort, Jean...”

****** **

John smiled into the kiss. He knew enough slang to know the double entendre that Sherlock was beguiling him with. Sherlock settled John’s nerves with laughter as he tucked John close softly crooning something along the same vein John imagined.

****** **

“Et au creux de ses bras, la mort nous bercera car si l'on me perd, c'est seulement pour rester la tienne...”

****** **

_Oh, yes. John was a dead man walking._

****** **

“I’ll give you anything... Damn your voice.”

****** **

This brought another deep laugh from Sherlock. John was just glad they were comfortable with one another, had to be the upside of trying this out with a friend. Well more than, when John really looked at it, seemed as if he had finally found someone to trust with himself. That’s what it all came down to wasn’t it? John trusted Sherlock with his life, with everything really, this was just a further extension. John really wanted this, needed it really.

****** **

What was between them was magnetic, he was afraid that they’d fall over the edge together and that would be that. They’d have a good run, then Sherlock would get bored with his broken flat-mate and move onto someone closer to his esthetic. That’s how it always happened wasn’t it?

****** **

Would it be luminous?

****** **

Would it warm Sherlock from all the chilling carelessness of the world outside their door?

****** **

John _knew_.

****** **

Sherlock continued to chuckle right into the pliant kiss that had been waiting for him only. John could only hope that Sherlock could feel the change radiate from within him. The open fragility of John’s heart being offered in this understated way. Love didn’t always have to be about grand gestures or even spoken languages. Sometimes it was just about two people and the language they created on their own.

****** **

John gripped Sherlock’s hand that was still placed on his hip, braced tucking his ankle around the lanky calf before flipping them in the bed. As he continued their kiss John reciprocated Sherlock’s earlier caress and wound his fingers through the dark auburn hair that floated around his face. Lips were nibbled, tongues slid together once again, this was their communication. John’s openness as he canted his hips beneath Sherlock with little hesitancy now, allowing the friction of cloth against his cock. The rough slide of material with the frequent grip of abdominal skin and sparse dark hair that lead to more wonderful things.

****** **

The concave dip of Sherlock’s navel brushing the exposed tip as John became more engorged. This, this was his heaven. The urgent press of his damp mouth to Sherlock’s neck, the lick at his clavicle, neediness shown in breathy hitches and sighs only for Sherlock’s ears. John knew he was anxious, but he was no longer worried about the tomorrows between he and Sherlock.

 ****  
****All he wanted was here and now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Seulement la petite mort, Jean..."  
> "Only, the 'little death', John..."
> 
> “Et au creux de ses bras, la mort nous bercera car si l'on me perd, c'est seulement pour rester la tienne...”  
> "And the hollow of his arm, death lull us because if you lose me, it is only to keep yours..."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everybody who comes by!


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